


Disbanded

by Lindzzz



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, HI KOZZY, One Shot, YOU DID A LOT OF HORRIBLE THINGS BUT NICE TO HAVE YOU BACK, go me, return of kozmotis, sort of, wow look at that I actually did a genfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindzzz/pseuds/Lindzzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never really knew what would be left after the fearlings scattered.  The main guesses were either nothing or the remnants of whatever body they had taken.</p><p>But Jack can see Pitch, whole and lying on the ground.  And breathing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disbanded

**Author's Note:**

> Brought on by a lot of discussions on Tumblr that lead to the thought of "What if, somehow, Pitch turned back into Kozmotis, but could still remember everything he had done as Pitch?"
> 
> And then this one shot happened

It was North who had found it. An old book, older than any of them, hiding away in the library he kept ("For books are also treasure eh Jack?")

It told of a horror that had risen from an ancient prison, of how the fearlings of the world had somehow taken a body and used it to ravage the stars.

Jack had listened to the tale with increasingly wide eyes. "So Pitch is just....a whole bunch of these things in one body?"

Bunnymund looked physically ill. "Crikey, he's a bunch of parasites that took over their bloody host!"

North idley flipped throught the book, eyebrows raised. "So it seems. What we see as Pitch, he is just a sort of, how you say, vessel."

Tooth shudders, feathers ruffling. "That's terrible!”

“It would explain why he’s all...y’know...” Jack waved his fingers by his head, raising his eyebrows significantly. He paused for a beat, then frowned, nose wrinkling. “Wait, you guys didn’t know?”

North shrugged and closed the book. “Pitch is oldest of all of us. He is older even than Sandman. There is much that we do not know about him.”

“A lot that we don’t WANT t’know.” Bunnymund added.

There was more talk, but really, the new knowledge didn’t change much. Pitch may have been a conglomerate of fearlings that were currently acting as a committee in one body, but he was still Pitch. So Jack hadn’t really thought much more of it after that (aside from the occasional thought of things like ‘what if they don’t all agree on something?’ or ‘does that mean they all have to take a vote before making decisions?’ and ‘which one is responsible for the dancing?’)

But North and Bunnymund (who apparently was quite the scholar, who knew?) had put a LOT more thought into it.

And it was only a few months later when the Big Five were called back together. 

North looks serious, but Bunnymund is practically bouncing around with glee.

Jack is...apprehensive.

“Un...seal him?”

North nods, “It is complicated process, but relatively simple spell. Bunny is one who found it. Pitch, he is merely a walking gathering, so-”

“So you break up the gathering! Send the little blighters scattering off back to where they belong! And that’s it!”

Tooth looks as unsure about this as Jack feels at least. “Bunny...can we even do that? I don’t like Pitch as much as anyone but we need to keep things balanced.”

“Pitch aint natural Tooth! The fearlings aren’t gettin destroyed, they’re being disbanded! It’s not getting rid of the fear, it’s just makin it less focused, makin it more like the way it was supposed to be!”

Jack still doesn’t feel quite right about this...but he’s also new. And he has a feeling that trying to defend Pitch won’t go over too well. Which makes sense, he figures. He didn’t even see Pitch at his worse, didn’t see what he had been capable of when he was powerful. 

So he doesn’t say anything, he just chews his lips in worry while the others plan.

It seems way too easy when they actually go through with it.

It’s easy to corner Pitch in his lair, he’s a lot weaker now and only yells in rage from the shadow he’s backed up into. Jack winces from where he is behind the Guardians while Pitch snarls and hisses. 

He shouldn’t feel guilty, he reminds himself. Pitch isn’t really a person right? He’s a puppet, a bunch of things making one body move. 

That doesn’t help when the screaming starts. 

It doesn’t keep Jack from having to turn away and cover his ears to stop from being sick when he actually hears the single scream start fracturing, turning into shrieks from thousands of shadows as they scatter.

He feels Tooth’s small arm come around his shoulders and he huddles into her, trying to focus on her rapid heartbeat instead of the way the shadows are writhing and screaming into the air as they rip away from the convulsing THING that had been Pitch.

Finally it stops, and Jack is left with the sound of his own gasping as he slowly lowers his hands from his ears. The echoes of the last fearling are dying on the air and it seems so strange to think that that’s it. It’s over now. Their greatest threat has literally been scattered to the wind.

He had expected to hear cries of celebration, but the dark room (less dark now, he notices) is filled with a heavy, tense silence.

He looks up and instantly sees why.

They never really knew what would be left after the fearlings scattered. The main guesses were either nothing or the remnants of whatever body they had taken.

But Jack can see Pitch, whole and lying on the ground. And breathing.

Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong. Jack can only see one outflung hand, but the skin is lighter. It’s still stone grey but it’s not smudged with coal-like nightmare sand now. There’s an almost silvery quality to it (like it’s lit by the moon, Jack thinks, and he feels insane for even considering that.)

And Pitch’s robe doesn’t do that odd blend into his body. It’s a simple black coat now, frayed and worn around the edges.

Everyone stays back, staring in shock at where Pitch is sprawled. There’s a collective inhale, a tensing all around, when he moves.

It’s a slow, shaking movement as he pulls his arms in under him with a groan. He seems weak, impossibly weak and barely pushes himself up with another pained sound.

Then he just sits there, still holding himself up on his hands. His head is bowed, like it’s too heavy, and Jack can see the way his body trembles. They’re just small little shakes, miniature earthquakes, that start at his center and move out until it looks like his arms are barely holding him up.

Jack breaks away from the group, ignoring the hissed warnings as he slowly walks towards Pitch. As he gets closer, he can see the delicate embroidered patterns picked out in gold at the edges of the long coat.

Pitch’s whole frail form is shaking now, and Jack can hear the way his breath is hitching in quick, shallow inhales. He doesn’t know what’s happening doesn’t know whether to reach out or not.

“Pitch?”

Pitch’s head flies up with a pained gasp and Jack nearly falls backwards. It’s still Pitch’s face, but his skin is indeed lighter, cleaner and an almost translucent pale grey. But it’s his eyes that get Jack. They’re not that odd, gleaming grey-silver-gold (Jack could never figure out what color Pitch’s eyes were supposed to be), they’re just gold now. Almost as gold and bright as Sandy’s body.

And they’re wide and brimmed with tears and so completely and utterly terrified that Jack feels his lungs clench up.

“What am I?”

Jack almost doesn’t hear it. Pitch’s voice is already cracked and hoarse from screaming and he whispers it so quietly that it's barely a sound at all. Jack cautiously edges closer.

“What did you say?”

“What am I!?” Pitch yells it this time, voice bordering on hysterical. He looks like he’s falling apart like he’s breaking more than he was when he was actually falling apart. Jack grips his staff, he doesn’t know what to do doesn’t know how to even begin to handle this.

“Pitch, what-”

Pitch yanks back like he’s been physically struck. “Don’t!” He curls in on himself, hands shaking again as they cover his head like he’s trying to block Jack out. “Don’t call me that!”

What does he do what CAN he do? Jack slowly crouches down by....Pitch? But maybe not. What was he...

He sucks in a breath when he thinks, _‘Maybe the body wasn’t dead when the fearlings took it.’_

He feels sick. Bites his lip while he looks at what Pitch USED to be. At what the fearlings had taken and destroyed.

And now Jack and the rest of them were left with the pieces. How much of this was Pitch? He looked like Pitch, his voice was the same, but everything else...

“What...what do I call you?”

Pitch (Not Pitch, Jack corrects himself) stays where he is, knees tucked up and head clutched between his hands. He’s still shuddering in small shocks and barely breathing without hyperventilating.

Jack is starting to think that the man didn’t hear him, when his voice finally cracks through the shallow gasps. It’s a small whisper again, and sounds like he’s almost ashamed to say it. Like saying it is the most painful thing he’s done.

“Kozmotis...”


End file.
